


i still freeze

by octopodian



Category: The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells
Genre: Gen, Mentions of past abuse, and mentions of triggers but nothing 'on screen' or graphic, discussions of trauma, nothing very explicit just general 'living in the aftermath of bad things'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopodian/pseuds/octopodian
Summary: When I saw ComfortUnit again, I didn't tear it limb from limb like I promised to the last time I saw it. I'm getting soft or something, whatever; mostly I didn’t want to make a scene in the shopping mall.
Relationships: Asshole Research Transport & Murderbot (Murderbot Diaries), ComfortUnit & Murderbot (Murderbot Diaries)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	i still freeze

When I saw ComfortUnit again, I didn't tear it limb from limb like I promised to the last time I saw it. I'm getting soft or something, whatever; mostly I didn’t want to make a scene in the shopping mall.  
  


I hadn’t really expected to ever see it again, but apparently it had known when I (or more accurately, when ART, and thus myself by extension) was coming close enough to its current residence that it could corner me into having a conversation.  
  


(Okay, I was being a little harsh, but I also did not want to see or talk to anyone, ever, and even less so if the last time we saw each other we had been forced to fight.)  
  


ComfortUnit has SecUnit-short hair now. Where I've had to adapt myself to look more human over time, ComfortUnit seems to have gone in the exact opposite direction. It has stripped away all of its fancy hair and garnishes, and it looks... well, like a bot, if you had any experience with bots. Not like a SecUnit, but not really like a standard ComfortUnit either.   
  


ART also informs me that it seems to have had all of its sex-related parts removed. I don't even want to know how much that type of surgery costs in the Corporate Rim if you didn't have an Asshole Research Transport dying to do it for free.   
  


We’re in a public space. I’m waiting for ARTs crew to finish a shopping period, and was keeping an eye on all of them with drones while also watching a new serial with ART. I hadn’t recognized it immediately, and it had managed to get close enough that I couldn’t pretend I didn't see it and walk quickly away. Yes, that was my fault for not paying attention. No, that didn't make me less paranoid.   
  


“Hello,” it says. “Long time, no see.”  
  


Apparently the ‘not looking like a human’ thing hasn’t extended to how it talks.   
  


I ping ART almost plaintively to get me out of this situation. It’s a jerk and doesn’t respond.  
  


I’ve already identified multiple different exits from this scenario, some of which involve climbing up an ornate fountain in the shape of an animal with a long trunk and waiting up there until the ComfortUnit gets bored, but most of them would at least get security alerted.

  
I don’t say anything back. I just wave and ping it in the feed to tell it yes, I see you, and yes, we know who each other are.

  
“How are you?”

  
Oh god, small talk. You would think other bots would understand the agony of small talk and wouldn't be constantly trying to make it.

  
“Why are you here?” I say out loud.

  
“I work here. Why are you here?”

  
Two can play at that game. “I am here for work.” 

  
“You are a security consultant.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. I cross my arms, both because it’s what a human would do and because I’m more than slightly irritated. “I have followed your story in the news.”

  
I tense up. 

  
“I am not here to fight you.” I do not relax. “I just want to say thank you for what you did for me.”

  
“I didn’t do it for you.” 

  
(ART takes this moment to inform me that ComfortUnit has a social profile, and that it lists its name as “Eden,” gender as “indeterminate,” and pronouns as “any,” which pisses me off even though that wasn’t actually ever my name. It still feels like it stole something.)

  
It doesn’t show any sign of leaving, so obviously it had more to say.

  
“What else do you want, _Eden_?” I say using my best ‘you’ve seen me kill and I am not above doing that again’ voice. 

  
“It’s... about her.” 

  
I run through everyone that could possibly be in my head and settle on the most likely option. “Tlacey?"  
  


ComfortUnit flinches. “Don’t say that,” it says immediately, then regains its composure. “Yes. _Her."_

  
"She's dead."

  
My drones show me that ComfortUnit is now making direct eye contact with me. That makes my performance reliability drop even further than it already had. Plan “hide on fountain until Seth comes looking” was looking increasingly promising. 

  
"It’s been a year and I still freeze," it says bluntly. I must look as confused as I feel, because it continues, "when I see someone with a similar haircut, or when someone talks and they have her accent, or any number of tiny mannerisms that vaguely resemble her. I freeze, and I have an illogical moment where I think my governor module must be back, because how else could she be doing this to me? But the governor module is gone, and she's dead." It smiles ruefully. "It's just a haircut."

  
"I don't remember the Ganaka pit incident. Nothing reminds me of it." It's not really acknowledging what it said, but it's at least something that isn't dismissive but doesn't require me telling it anything about myself it doesn't already know, and that’s about the best I can do right now. I don’t know why it’s telling me this or what it wants me to say. 

  
"I envy that, sometimes," it says, “but I suppose we don't get to choose either way. We just have to live with the aftermath." 

  
I’m reminded of what I said to Tapan, Rami, and Maro.

  
_Sometimes people do things to you that you can’t do anything about. You just have to survive it and go on.  
  
_

It still sounds calm, but there’s an edge of desperation as it says, again, “it’s been a year, and I _still_ _freeze_.”  
  


I don’t know what to say, and thankfully ART finally decides to stop being an asshole and offers some actual help. 

_  
It is concerned about its own emotions and is asking if your experiences were similar.  
  
_

_That’s none of its business._

_  
It needs reassurance that it is functioning within normal parameters._

_  
There is no ‘normal’ for a rogue. We aren’t ‘normal.’_

_  
It just wants something to make it feel better._

_  
It should’ve asked someone else._

  
I clench my jaw for a moment, and then let it go. ComfortUnit is still looking at me evenly, clearly aware that I am preoccupied. 

  
“That’s normal.” I can’t bring myself to lie and say that it goes away, that time magically heals all wounds and I’m not still scared and paranoid and anxious even now, but I manage to say, “you’re doing better than I was.”

  
(Which is true, it had only been rogue for 9000 hours and was already undergoing therapy treatment. I had been rogue for over 45000 hours and was still unlikely to ever do that.)

  
ComfortUnit visibly relaxes. “Acknowledged.” It pauses once again, and makes eye contact again. “Thank you.” 

  
It turns and walks away. I watch it go, and get a notification in my feed. It’s a data package containing a permanent address to send long-distance messages to, as well as a few recordings of a discontinued show I’d heard of but never managed to actually find a copy of. 

  
The address is just labeled as ‘ComfortUnit / Eden,’ no further information.

  
It didn’t have any way of contacting me _,_ but had still given me a way to contact it if I ever wanted to. Not a request, just the option to do so. 

  
That made me feel something, and I wasn’t sure what. There were a lot of unnamed emotions in me right now, and I was exhausted from the brief conversation and just wanted to sink into my media. 

  
I pull up the discontinued show, and ART settles in beside me to watch. It feels nice to have it there, and I think about how I feel safer with it, and how I have a job now, and most of them know I'm a SecUnit, I don't have to pretend as much to be something I'm not.

  
I think about ComfortUnit and survival, and I cozy up to ART and hit play.


End file.
